


Immortality Kinda Sucks Sometimes

by LeenWritesHere



Category: SCP Foundation
Genre: Bright’s not having a good time, Dark Comedy, Death, Ficlet, Gen, Humor, Immortality, Short, how on earth do i tag this, repeated deaths
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:13:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27949610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeenWritesHere/pseuds/LeenWritesHere
Summary: “Good bodies are so hard to find,” Dr. Bright muses as he dies once again.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 65





	Immortality Kinda Sucks Sometimes

Death is always a pain.

Both physically, and a metaphorical pain in the ass.

Seriously, one minute, he’s finally found a body he likes, and the next minute, he’s been shot by a security guard because they didn’t get the memo that D-17358 was Dr. Bright’s new body.

Oh well. It could be worse.

Actually no this fucking sucks. It’s cold and grimy on the floor and all Bright wanted to do after getting this body was take the rest of the day off, but nooooo, an SCP just _had_ to breach containment while he got shot. Fucking hell.

The security guard that shot him is dead on the floor, courtesy of the breached SCP looming above Bright and growling at him.

It snarls at Bright, blood mixed with the saliva dripping from its mouth as it inches its head closer to his and opens its jaws, ready to clamp them shut over his head.

Bright stares at the beast with a bored expression, quiet for a moment before a large drop of saliva suddenly drips onto his shirt.

“.... 682, that is disgusting. Honestly, no matter how much of a humanity-hating beast you are, you could at the very least have some fucking standards.”

682 bites his head off immediately and throws the headless corpse against the wall.

* * *

”Site-wide memo: I have a new body. It’s D-9153, Thomas Macalister. And to the security team, don’t fucking shoot me this time.” 

Bright sends out the mass email, making sure to sign it as “Site Director Dr. Bright, the person deciding whether or not the security team actually gets paid this month.” 

Good bodies are so damn hard to find. This one, however, is perfect. Even better than the one he had before.

Dr. Bright looks over it, smiling with a gap in his teeth. Freckles, curly red hair, hazel eyes, over six feet of height- absolutely perfect. 

Dr. Bright is going to keep this body for as long as he can, damn it, and nothing or no one would take it away from him.

His computer beeps and all it takes is a look at the subject of the email for Dr. Bright to panic.

Damn it, he‘s late for a meeting!

Dr. Bright grabs some of the files haphazardly strewn around his desk and makes a run for the door before his forehead collides against the top of the metal doorframe with a loud crack and he collapses to the ground.

He really should remember that his doorframe isn’t suited for anyone over five feet and eight inches.

The blood that spills from his forehead won’t fade from his carpet no matter how many times he bleaches it, he notes in annoyance just a split second before he loses consciousness.

* * *

Dr. Bright looks in the mirror with contempt. 

”Alto.”

”Yes?” Clef innocently asks.

“So as a reality bender, you can do almost anything, right?”

”That’s kind of how being a reality bender works, buddy.”

”Hmm. So you could’ve done anything in the world, anything at all- literally anything at all- but still, you chose to do _this_.”

Dr. Bright gestures to himself, his body a perfect copy of Adam Sandler.

”I get bored, Jack. Gotta fill in that entertainment void somehow.”

”By turning my current body into Adam Sandler.”

”Yes.”

“He makes terrible movies. You know I hate all of them.”

”I know. That’s why I did this. I'm being self-indulgent here.”

“Hmm. Clef. Do you have your shotgun with you?” 

“Always carry it on me, Jack.”

”Good. Shoot me and get me another body.”

* * *

“Simon, why do humans exist? Were we just put on this Earth to suffer? Is that why SCPs exist?” Dr. Bright chirps.

”Jack, I’m sorry, but the parrot was the only thing we had available at short notice,” Simon sighs.

Dr. Bright throws a walnut at Simon’s head. “I hate this,” he squawks.

”Jack, stop that, I had no say in this.”

”Simon I am going to be stuck in a parrot’s body for the next three days. Let me make the most of it.”

”By throwing walnuts at me?”

“I need enrichment! I’m a parrot with parrot instincts! Like throwing walnuts at people.”

”That’s not a parrot instinct.”

”How do you know, Simon? You’ve never been a fucking parrot.”

” _Look_. I get that you’re annoyed. That's fine, I get it, but at the very least be thankful that you can actually talk in this body and aren't just limited to squawking and incoherent bird noises."

"Wow, incredible. I feel so validated. Thank you, Simon." Bright deadpans sarcastically. He picks up another walnut to throw at Simon's head. The throw is too weak and it lands in Simon's coffee mug.

Simon rolls his eyes. "Just bear with it. Okay? Just put up with it and try to make the most of things. Without throwing walnuts at me or my coffee."

Dr. Bright glares at Simon as much a parrot can glare. Which really isn't much. He looks like he's constipated.

Simon can’t help but laugh at that. He really shouldn’t, but he can’t help himself.

Bright throws another walnut at his head to shut him up and squawks loudly, before he looks down with contempt at the the amulet that’s been temporarily glued to his left wing. 

God, he hates this thing.


End file.
